Compassion International

I went to church one Sunday in March 2006, and was introduced to Compassion International’s ministry. I went back to the table at the end of the service, and started looking at the information of children in need. Dozens of kids from all over the world who didn’t look anything like the images I saw in infomercials growing up.1 Jocsan’s information was among them, the only boy on the table.

I read through his information and learned a little about his family, what it was like growing up in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, and how a local church was investing in him and other children in his community. I filled out the paperwork, and brought my photo of Jocsan home to show Emily.

I started writing letters, and eventually received some in return. They were awkward, as any letter from an adult in Canada to a child in Honduras would be. But his were sweet, at any rate. They were filled with questions about life in Canada (and later in the United States), prayer requests, and answers to prayer. A few months after sponsoring Jocsan, I was able to meet him, which was also kind of awkward but a lot of fun.

We continued to write, although we had a season where I didn’t keep up on it well. This season came to an end when I saw Jocsan, and met his mother and sister (who I also sponsored at that point) on my second trip to Honduras. His mother gently scolded me about this (and rightly so).

More than 11 years of writing, of birthday and Christmas gifts, of cards and art and prayers… And then, I got a letter this week. Jocsan completed Compassion’s program this month, and graduated from high school, and will no longer be attending activities at the Compassion Center at the church.

We now have the opportunity to write one final letter, which might be the hardest thing I’ve had to write, ever, because it means we’re saying goodbye to someone who has been part of our lives for a very long time. But it also means we’re going to meet someone new.

When I told my kids about Jocsan finishing up in the program, I asked if we should sponsor another child. Immediately they all said yes. I asked them why. They said:

Because kids need to know people care.

Because they need help.

Because they need to know God loves them.

(Can’t really argue with those answers.)

So I asked them if they would be willing to help choose the next child we sponsor, and if they would be a part of writing. All three said yes to both, even Hudson, which is impressive since he’s still working on this whole reading thing. And that excites me, especially if they stick with it. I’d love for them to be a part of investing in the life of someone close to their own age in another part of the world—and to see how that relationship shapes them, as much as being Jocsan’s sponsor shaped me and the direction of my life from the moment I picked up his information at the back of our church.

The way some people talk about prayer owes more to New Age spirituality and witchcraft than biblical Christianity. I don’t want to name any names, but I recall when I was a teenager being taught about “spiritual warfare” in ways I cannot seem to find supported in the Bible. Sometimes God and Satan were cast as warring opposites, a kind of yin and yang balancing each other out, even while squaring off. Which side will win in the battle over your soul and the fate of the universe? Well, whichever side you support, of course.

It is very much in the Devil’s interests that we despair. If he can get us to believe any of these three demoralizing lies that he loves to whisper into our thoughts, our powers for Jesus are greatly diminished. And each one seems to us quite plausible.

The jaw-dropping implication of this passage is that while Christ is the son and head over the church, the house, he humbled himself to take on the form of a servant to serve the church. Friends, consider Jesus. Consider him leaving the glory of heaven to walk among the sinful pollution of earth. He did this not to be received as a king but to be rejected as a criminal. He took upon all of our worst so that he could give us all of his best. This loving commitment of Jesus to his church is seen in how low he stoops to serve her. Don’t lose sight of the picture in John 13 of Jesus washing his disciples’ feet. He is the General who washes the wounds, the CEO who sits at the desk of an entry-level worker, and the king who washes the dusty feet of his followers. The fact that Jesus is powerful means that he protects and defends his church but the fact that he is humble means that he serves his church.

Recently, two men that I appreciate have resigned their churches and left abruptly. Both men love Jesus deeply and both left a large wake and a lot of hurt in the process. Their ministries were going well. There was not a major scandal. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was the way they left, so here are 7 tips to help someone transition and leave a church well.

Normally, I don’t pay too much attention to the quotes my friends share online. But one day a while back a friend shared one that made my heart hurt. It was quote from Ann Lamott, perhaps you know it—”The opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty.”

This, to me, is heartbreaking because it speaks to a deep confusion I suspect many of us struggle with, which stems from our struggle with absolutes. We are constantly told that absolutes don’t really exist. It is arrogant, even presumptuous, to say you are certain of something—to say that you know something. As the philosopher once said, “The only true wisdom consists in knowing that you know nothing.”

But sometimes, either for someone else or for ourselves, we must provide an answer to the “why?” question. When we see deep suffering, does it mean God doesn’t care, or can’t help it, or isn’t there at all? One of the best strategies for responding to this question, rather than meeting it head on, is to come alongside it and draw attention to a clue in the question itself.

To really live Sola Scriptura is to believe and grasp the sufficiency of Scripture. The Bible is sufficient, powerful, for all of your life in Christ. You don’t need John Piper’s podcast. You don’t lack anything if you can’t buy the Christian “Book of the Year.” These are all helpful and wonderful things, but if you have God’s word, you have the food you need. And this word leads us toward living with God, how to live for God, how to walk in the power of Christ.

Moving an unengaged audience to full engagement is not an easy task. It may take some time, patience, and intentional training. There’s no magic formula or even one style of worship that will convince people to sing.

Fortunately, say Harland and other worship pastors, there are some steps church leaders can take to help congregations enjoy singing and participate.

We do well to remember that the church is a movement of God’s Spirit. The pastor isn’t a professional. The pastor is a holy mystic, a spiritual shepherd. He’s closer to the wild-bearded wilderness prophet than the Fortune-100 CEO. In a materialist world that trains us to distrust our thirst for transcendence, the pastor lifts people’s eyes to the heavens. We should support theological training—through seminaries and church internships and more—that encourage the future pastors of God’s church to embrace ministry as a holy calling, one staked upon the truth of God (John 17:17).

I’ve gotten a lot of advice over the years about how to deal with anxiety and worry. On the advice of an older Christian (one who probably had a bit too much prosperity in his gospel) Emily and I once had a “worry box.” What we were encouraged to do with it was write down whatever it was that we were worried about and put it in the box to symbolically represent “giving it God.” Any time we were tempted to worry about such-and-such a thing, we were to point to the box, and thus we were not allowed to worry about it.

Now, maybe some people find things like that helpful, but… Yeah, that didn’t go so well for us.